The Worst of Two Evils
by Sea Chelle
Summary: Draco Malfoy is sent on a Death Eater mission to kill Harry Potter - but in the past. When he encounters a four year old child, he finds himself at a loss. Will he be able to complete his orders?
1. Ignorance Is Bliss

(**Author's Note: Hi! If you'd like to join my mailing list, please leave your email address in a review or email me at Crunkygurljrt@hotmail.com asking me to send you an invitation. Thanks! Hope you like this chapter!)**

**The Worst of Two Evils**

+++++

_"When you choose   
the lesser of two evils,  
always remember   
that it is still an evil."_

_- Max Lerners_

+++++

**_Prologue_**

+++++

He was leaning over a map in the park, his beautiful face drawn in concentration. Covered in the shade of a large oak, his pale skin was untouched by the harmful rays of the shining sun. His knuckles were purple and black from contact with some hard surface, and a line of red marred his sensual lip. If something awful had befallen him, he gave no sign of it. After a long moment of skimming over the blasted paper, he looked up. Merlin, it was a beautiful day and here he was sitting on this confounded bench trying to read a bunch of gibberish. That was when he saw a ball roll at his feet. He leisurely bent down and picked it up. 

The thumping of feet on the grass and dirt met his ears and he looked up to be confronted with eyes too large for the small face that kept them. Draco sat up stiffly in surprise. Those eyes – those eyes were identical to the emerald green ones that he remembered back home. Dear Merlin, but where those eyes were always filled with malice and anger whenever they were laid upon him, these were filled with fear and uncertainty. The depths of black swirls that were born from many trials and tribulations were replaced with innocence, yet somehow contained tiny specks of its own. 

The child bit his lip in hesitance and tentatively held his tiny hand out for the ball in silent askance. He couldn't have been more than four years old, Draco mused to himself. The child was tiny and his large clothes hung off his small frame. It rather looked ridiculous, but Draco remembered the state of Potter's clothes back home and decided that it wasn't that big of a change. He sat back, silently taunting the child so that the small boy with a familiar mess of black hair dropped his gaze, a pink flush heating his cheeks. "Is this your ball?" drawled Draco softly, his aristocratic voice clipped and precise. 

The response was a coy glance and a small nod. Draco found himself smirking, tossing the ball up into the air before catching it again. The boy stared at the action, seemingly awed at the speed at which this tall pale stranger could toss and catch the ball. _Quidditch reflexes, boy, thought the young man with an inner grin. "It's a nice blue ball," he told the child and the small creature met his grey eyes. He was a suspicious little thing and kept his distance, and Draco assumed it was from those confounded lessons that said one should never talk to strangers. _

Draco beckoned to the boy to sit upon the bench with him. "Come, sit," he bade the child with a gesture and a charming tone. However, the boy was not one easily charmed. Green eyes glowed with doubt and he took a careful step backwards, his gaze never wavering from the ball being tossed in the air and caught again. It seemed as if the boy couldn't decide whether talking to a stranger to retrieve his ball was worth the potential consequences. "Potter, I'm not about to hurt you," he said condescendingly and when the child jumped in surprise and scurried backwards, Draco felt that he could have phrased that better. 

_Little git doesn't know me_ even if I know him,_ he thought. The boy had tripped over his long trousers and landed upon his rump with a soft 'thud'. Draco rolled his eyes. Potter quickly righted himself, although a bit waveringly, and eyed the pale man before him with mounting fear and suspicion._ Well, damn. The prat seems to know how he feels about me even before we've met – in the regular timeline of course.__

He opened his mouth to speak again when a large man came lumbering over. "Boy!" Draco saw little Potter grimace and slowly turn around. It seemed as if any thoughts about the ball were suddenly dispelled from his mind. The man was big and had a rather large belly. His mustache was much like that of a male walrus and his face the color of purple grapes as he swelled with anger. "You've lost the ball already?"

"I – I -," but the boy cut himself off when his voice seemingly failed him. He didn't even send a glance back at Draco who held his ball, watching avidly as the scene unfolded.

"It hasn't been a day and already you've lost that blasted ball! Probably think that money grows from trees, you do, and that a toy bought out of your family's bank account is nothing to take careful care of! You're taking advantage of us is what you're doing!" growled the man as he waved a fat finger down at Potter. Draco looked at the tiny ball in his hand in incredulity. He doubted that such a thing was worth more than a Knut.

Potter shook his head quickly as he stared up at the angry, purple mask that looked ominously down at him. "No – no, Uncle Verwon!" exclaimed the child piteously. 

But the man called Verwon would hear nothing of it. He grabbed a tight and vicious hold upon Potter's tiny shoulder and dragged him away to a more secluded clearing, still muttering angrily at the little boy who cowered away from the large man. Draco frowned in distaste and stood up, walking towards the duo.

"Mr. Verwon," said Draco by way of greeting. 

The man spun around and let go of little Potter's shoulder. The boy looked up with large watery eyes at Draco and the Malfoy heir looked away from him quickly. 

"Vernon," corrected the man. "My name is Vernon Dursley." He eyed Draco's clothing and seemed satisfied with the sophisticated attire the stranger wore. 

"Mm, yes – well, I believe your son dropped this," said Draco, holding out the small ball. 

"He's not my son," was the quick reply. Mr. Dursley snatched the ball away and scowled at Potter. "Thank you, sir," he replied, then turned his back on him and glowered down at the little boy before him. Dursley looked back to see Draco still standing there and shot the young man a glare. Draco, insulted and rather annoyed, gave the man his coldest glare and turned to walk back to the bench where his map lay. 

Draco watched as Dursley continued to gesture angrily and berate the young Potter, and he felt a small sliver of satisfaction run through him. _Hmm, the little git deserves it if you ask me,_ he thought, but there was a nagging feeling in him as well. Apparently, that large chunk of lard was Potter's uncle – a rather crude man if Draco had ever met one. It didn't matter, however, for Draco himself believed in strict discipline. 

He was Head Boy at Hogwarts, after all, and took it upon himself to make sure the younger generation of the school was not a complete embarrassment. Everyday he had one of the first years carry his things to class and random others fetch yet more things that he had unfortunately forgotten. This, he believed, was a way of instilling obedience and discipline into the youngsters. 

The noble Gryffindors, however, were quick to object to his way of teaching. He was always kind enough to remind them that he was head boy and thus ruled over them. Granger, though, had the same power as he for she was Head Girl. She was always lecturing him about hazing, but he never paid her much heed. If she decided to dismiss one of Draco's commands, the younger children usually did not obey for fear of their Head Boy's wrath. 

Draco Malfoy was a very influential figure at Hogwarts. 

He picked up his map and when he glanced over, he saw Potter following Dursley away. A boy who Draco assumed was a tad older than Potter joined them with a tall, skinny woman who very much resembled a horse. The boy was as fat as the man Draco assumed was his father, if not more so, and his absurd width seemed to equal his height. It was a rather funny picture to see someone so round steal Potter's blue ball away. 

If Draco had been expecting one of the adults to reprimand the chubby boy for stealing the other child's toy, he was sorely let down. Potter ducked his head as if sheepish and seemed to say something to the other boy which only made the child, who looked so much like the ball in his hand, laugh. 

"Mum, the Freak told me to give him back the ball!" cried the boy with glee. He laughed as 'Mum' glared at Potter. 

When she looked back at the round boy, her face softened into a smile. "Don't listen to him, Duddykins," she cooed. "Don't let him bully you." And Duddykins nodded with an obviously false innocent smile before pushing Potter over. Duddykins laughed raucously and ran off ahead, looking more as if he was waddling than jogging after tossing the ball into the nearby pond.  

Draco expected that familiar face to heat up with anger and those green eyes to darken, but all he saw was defeat written across the small boy's face as the child looked longingly at the blue ball floating on the green water's surface before he walked quickly to catch up with his family. 

"Well," murmured Draco thoughtfully, "this does make my job a whole lot easier." Then, with a grace that seemed ethereal, he stood up in one languid motion and disappeared with a soft 'pop'. 

+++++

**_Chapter 1 – Ignorance is Bliss_**

+++++

He sat silently staring at the blazing flames, his grey eyes smoldering more violently than the orange flames that roared before him. In his fist, a piece of parchment was grasped tightly. The sweat of his palm made it damp and rivulets of blood bled into the yellow of the paper – he didn't seem to notice…or he didn't seem to care. One would believe that he was simply angry at an unknown foe, or stressed about his arduous job – but they were ignorant as to what was written in the letter grasped so tightly in his hand.

And sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

Draco made a low sound of frustration deep in his throat before banging his fist down upon the arm of the chair. If he felt the searing pain that rushed up his arm, he gave no hint of it. His eyes fell upon the crumpled parchment in his hand and in one swift movement it was thrown into the fire. He watched with only the barest tinge of satisfaction as it curled and turned black from the scorching heat of the flames. 

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the Slytherin common room. His face was drawn taut with tension and his shoulders were stiff with the strain of the decision that weighed so heavily upon them. It was more of a burden than a choice, for his will was no more his own than his life was – it had always been that way and he now hated that fact more than ever.

He walked quickly, trying to avoid crossing paths with any unwanted company. Unfortunately, when one's destination was the owlery, that wish was usually made in vain. Just as he turned the corner, he had the misfortune of running into a young man, notably more than half a foot taller than he was. He was knocked ungracefully upon the ground and was tangled in his black school robes. Furiously, he righted himself and made to walk off unnoticed, but a familiar mess of black hair and bespectacled green eyes blocked his path. 

"Are you going to move out of my way, Potter, or are you going to continue being an unnecessary obstruction?" he snarled. Perhaps his tone was a little more harsh than was necessary, but he was in a hurry at the moment and had no time for mindless bickering. 

There was a scuttling sound nearby and Draco's eyes wandered towards the tall red-haired boy standing up once more at Potter's right side. Ironically, it was the famous Boy-Who-Lived's right hand man, Weasley. He looked at the full form of the boy and sneered at the dingy robes he wore. 

"You ought to watch where you're going, Malfoy," Weasley said with a scowl and the blonde noted that Granger wasn't with them today. 

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes and the words, "Missing the Mudblood today I see, did you two have a fall out? Or did she finally put those brains of hers to work and toss your sorry arse out the door?" slipped from his lips. It was known to everyone in Hogwarts that the Mudblood loving fool Weasley and Miss-Know-It-All Granger were a couple now.

Weasley blinked in undisguised shock before his face contorted into that mask of outraged crimson that always foretold of pain. Draco ducked as the Weasel threw his first punch and after that, he expected Potter to hold him back like he always did. But the git did nothing and the Malfoy heir was subjected to another crudely thrown blow to his stomach. The air in his lungs was quickly expelled and for a short moment, the contents of the letter, safely stashed away in his inner robe pocket, was forgotten. The pain didn't kick in until after he had retaliated with a kick between Weasley's legs. 

The red-headed boy doubled over with a groan and that's when he felt the cold touch of wood at his back. His face twisted into glower and he froze on the spot. 

_Didn't even notice Potter sneak up behind me, he thought, his temper boiling at his mistake rather than the fact that Potter had a wand at his back. _Blind like a fool – the very thing Father said I should never be. __

He found himself yet again with words spilling carelessly from his lips. "I didn't come here to have a fight with you today, Weasley, nor you, Potter – if you care to believe it. I've actually a bit of business to attend to." Slowly, he moved a step forward so that he couldn't feel the tip of Potter's wand on his back anymore. He side-stepped Weasley and began walking away and unbeknownst to him, he left the duo staring in astonishment after him.

+++++

Moments after the short brawl found Draco petting his short-eared owl. It's feathers were beautifully pattered with colors ranging from tawny to a rich chocolate brown. At its talons was a small package and Draco eyed it with distaste. "Father said you'd be bringing the package, Archimedes," he murmured. 

The owl hooted affectionately and nipped at his sleeve. He sighed as if in defeat and picked it up. It was feather light in his hands and, his curiosity getting the better of him, he tore through the wrapping and opened the box. He pulled out all the package cushioning and found himself looking at a small hourglass. His scowl darkened as he pulled it out. He hated the cursed thing and if it wasn't for McNair and his stupid connections in the ministry, then he wouldn't have found himself in this predicament. 

Draco slipped the chain of the Time Turner around his neck and hid it under his cloak. The belly of his left forearm tickled painfully and he rubbed it gingerly. He still remembered the terrible screams of torment and agony that had accompanied his very own ceremony – and he found it ironic that the screams had been his own.

_++**Flashback**__++_

_He was blind with fear as he sat in the lounge, despite the fact that his stance radiated tranquility. Draco had never been so afraid in his life. The elder initiates said that it was the greatest honor and that there was nothing to fear, but his mind and heart screamed the exact opposite of that. As he looked at Vince and Greg seated before him, he wondered if they felt the same._

_…_

_Draco watched at Greg fell to his knees and bit through his lip as he tried to fight against the pain. He saw his companion's skin blacken with the mark that would forever brand him as one of the many devoted followers of the Dark Lord. His chest constricted painfully as he saw Greg's eyes shut in pain and lines of blood fall down his chin – this was Greg, big and bulky Greg who feared no one and was always quick to jump to Draco's aid. _

_It seemed like hours until it was over. Greg was helped up and he spat out the blood that had welled up in his mouth before looking proudly around the room at the other Death Eaters that applauded for him. Draco saw the triumph that shone on his friend's face and, as fearless and confident as he pretended to be, he wondered if he would be able to go through what Greg had and pass._

_But it wasn't his turn yet. If it had been, he felt that he might have been more ready. _

_Vince walked up as boldly as Greg had done, and his eyes were clouded by the fear that only Greg and Draco could see for having been close friends for so long. Don't worry, Vince. If some of the gits in the Dark Lord's circle passed the initiation, we'll have no trouble,__ Draco had said just two weeks before. At that time, he had still been confident that getting the mark would be nothing…now…now he knew better. _

_The tall boy that was always at Draco's side sauntered up to the Dark Lord and held out his arm, palm side up. Lord Voldemort's glaring red eyes pierced Vince's own brown ones and he saw the young man visibly shudder. A murmur rushed through the crowd and Draco saw Vince close his eyes as if to build himself up for the torment that would inevitably occur. _

_He never knew the extent of that torment until it was too late._

_At the beginning, Vince trembled and shook – and then he began to scream. It wasn't a sole yell of pain, but a shriek of agony. Draco felt the last sliver of his resolve slip away, leaving a terrible emptiness in its wake. It seemed like only a second before Vince crumbled to the ground, his huge form jerking as he lay upon the ground as if he was being held under the Cruciatus curse. _

_That was when the Dark Lord drew his wand and pointed it at Vince's heart. Draco was frozen to his spot even as the green glow appeared at the tip of the wood. "Who speaks in Vincent Crabbe's favor? Who would grant him mercy?" Lord Voldemort's terrible voice echoed around the room and there was complete silence that smothered Draco in its horrible grasp. His eyes darted to Crabbe, Sr., but the elder man had lowered his eyes to the ground, a frown creasing his brow. _

Is that all you can do for your son? Would you choose Voldemort over your heir? _wondered Draco in horror, but he himself could not find his voice._

_When the words, "Avada Kedavra_," left Voldemort's lips, all the young man was able to do was stare at the limp and lifeless figure of his friend. Across the room, Draco's eyes met Greg's and both shared their horror through silence. __

_And then someone grabbed his upper arm tightly, pulling him forward. He dug his heels into the ground and his eyes wandered from Vince's corpse to meet icy grey eyes so much like his own._

Would you choose Voldemort over your heir – your son?_ His silent entreaty was met with yet more ice. _

_Of course Lucius Malfoy would._

_Draco pulled his arm away and stumbled backwards, beginning to hyperventilate. His father's eyes narrowed and the elder man came forward once more, McNair at his side. They dragged him forcefully towards the Dark Lord as Draco began to scream and twist, trying in vain to escape the fate that would be a burden to him rather than an honor. _

_His screams came not from pain as the spell seared his flesh, but from anguish at the fact that he was branded now for life. He jerked and pulled, but the hold the Death Eaters had on him were too strong. There was no structure as he screamed and shameless tears fell down his pale face. They were like individual drops of fire straight from Lord Voldemort's own red eyes. They burned and scorched his skin and he tasted the bitter salt on his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to stop the pain, and to stop the searing feeling in his chest. It felt as if his very heart was being torn apart, and his soul was being shredded – and indeed, it was. Voldemort was binding Draco to himself, and only then did the young man see what it was that he had been reaching for his entire life._

_And then it was over, and Draco was pulled away, his father's eyes shooting drops of venom ice at him. He saw the dark red swirl of his master's eyes and felt as if the world was a cruel, cruel place. His life was his own no longer, and it was only now that he began to regret what he had made of himself._

++End of Flashback++

He was now branded as a beast to the wizarding world if anyone was to see the mark he bore upon his forearm. Now more than ever, he had decided to lessen his confrontations with the 'Golden Trio' for fear that in a slip of his sleeve and a misplaced spell, all the glamouries he placed over the mark would slither off leaving his mark bare to the entire world. He fingered the hourglass under his robes and scowled darkly.

"Get rid of Potter for sure," he snarled angrily. 

+++++

Someone tugged on his sleeve and he turned to look at who it was. The boy was short for a first year, and he looked as if one touch would shatter him into pieces. "D-Draco?"

Draco inwardly sighed. He remembered this first year's name – Danny Baddock, Malcolm Baddock's younger brother. "Danny," greeted the Malfoy.

The child's eyes were brimming with tears, but before the Head Boy, he furiously blinked them back. "Did you – did you know about Malcolm?" he whispered, lowering his gaze to the floor. Draco frowned and tried to meet Danny's gaze. "D-Did you know 'bout how he was initiated?" 

"Of course," replied Draco slowly, but his voice dripping with curiosity. 

Danny looked at him past wet eyelashes and his light brown eyes were large on his face. "He – he wrote me a letter," said the boy quietly. "He said that he was in trouble and – and that I should be brave and talk to – to you." 

"What kind of trouble is he in?"

The boy sniffed and hastily wiped a sleeve across his face. Draco handed him a kerchief which was gratefully accepted. Danny hid his face in the soft cloth. "He said he – he made a big mistake and that – that the Dark Lord is very angry." 

Draco's heart skipped a beat as he looked at the boy before him. "What sort of mistake, Danny?" he probed, his voice turning cold with fear. 

"M-Malcolm…he – he said that he made a big mistake about the Master and that – that he wouldn't be able to fix it." Danny's shoulders were shaking with repressed sobs and Draco gently put a hand on one shoulder.

"Why is that?"

"B-because he said that he didn't _want_ to fix it," whispered Danny and he looked up with wide fearful eyes at Draco that told of dark things. "He told me to tell you that he was sorry a-and that he chose his side. He said I can't see him anymore because he's going away to hide and that – that he doesn't want me get hurt. He -," but he cut himself off when they both heard the sound of footsteps upon the stone floors of the dungeons. 

Draco slowly stood, his hand still on Danny's shoulder and he looked at Severus as he approached. "Draco," greeted the potions master. He turned to look at the sobbing boy who had once again hidden his face in the handkerchief. "Danny, would you come with me to my office?" 

Danny wiped his face and hiccupped before holding out the kerchief to Draco. "You can keep it," said Draco, he didn't notice the look of blind adoration upon the younger boy's face for his own was trained upon the professor. The cloudy color of Severus Snape's eyes made his stomach turn. 

"I will speak with you later, Draco," said the potions master, before he led Danny Baddock away with a reassuring arm across the young boy's shoulder. 

+++++

Draco sat on his bed, fingering the Time Turner in his hands, the chain still looped around his neck. "Only seven turns with_ this_ particular Time Turner," he said, repeating a sentence from the letter in his pocket. "Too many or too little will spin you off course." He unfolded it and re-read a short section.

_You will **not fail this mission. The Dark Lord thought you fit to succeed, but I think differently. If you fail to comply with our Lord's wishes, the consequences will be dire indeed. This is your last chance, Draco. After the fiasco at your ceremony, many of our comrades are doubtful about your loyalties. Any weakness in you is passed on to me and I do not abide well with weaknesses. You will arrive back just before you leave and we expect the necessary changes. Everything in our past has been recorded and our Lord is certain that he will remember. Thus, a failure is in no way possible. **_

He sighed deeply and locked his dormitory door. It wouldn't do to have anyone see him with a time turner. Seven turns would activate the settings and he would be sent to the right time in the past. That done, he took a deep breath and stood up, looking at himself in the full length mirror.

Father said that it was the customary Muggle attire and in order to blend in, it was necessary to dress as such. Therefore, he wore black trousers and a grey jumper. He was able to choose his own clothes and felt more relaxed with these items instead of like he was wearing undergarments, feeling naked without robes. Despite the warm weather, as it would be when he was going, he had decided on this attire and was very pleased. Perhaps he would dress in Muggle clothing more often – it wasn't half bad. However, he would never say such a thing in front of anyone. 

He made the first turn and felt the wind pick up. He made the second and it began to rush through the room, and then he made a third. That was when someone decided to knock and he remembered that he had failed to cast a second silencing charm so that he could not hear what was taking place outside his dormitory. 

"Draco? Draco, are you in there?" It was Blaise Zabini. Draco swore under his breath and set the Time Turner down upon his desk being. "Draco, I need to talk to you about the Quidditch match this weekend!" 

"Blaise!" yelled Draco through the door. "The bloody door is locked, take a hint!" Then he cast the silencing charm he had meant to set moments before. Once the silence soothed his nerves. "Blast, how many turns did I make?" he muttered and decided that he could just alter the Turner's commands if he ended up in the wrong timeline. He spun it five times more and cast the spell that would take him to the proper timeline.

And then the world tilted on its axis and rolled over. 

+++++

"_Bloody hell!" _

Draco untangled himself from the other young man upon which he fell. "_Merlin, what the hell do you think you were doing?" he exclaimed and soon after, decided that that particular question was a bit odd seeing as how it was he who fell upon the other. He sat up and rubbed his head as he scowled fiercely at the person before him. The man was tall and looked to be in his late teens. He was handsome and radiated an air of confidence that was very much like Draco's own. _

The boy glared back at him and turned to look over as another one came over. This one had light brown hair and kind hazel eyes. His expression was comical as he looked at the two young men glowering at one another as they straightened their clothes. "Is everything all right, Padfoot?" wondered the brunette, holding his hand out to help his friend up. 

The black haired boy that was called Padfoot nodded gingerly and rubbed his head with an angered expression upon his handsome face. "Sure, if you think raining men is all right," he replied sarcastically. He glanced at his friend and took in the young man's pallor. "Hey, Remus, are you all right? I thought James was supposed to bring you to the infirmary?" 

Draco doubled backwards at the name 'Remus'. "Bloody Circe," he murmured, his grey eyes widening in disbelief. Then he quickly touched his neck to see if the Time Turner was still there. Thankfully, it was and he hid it under his shirt while the other two were talking. 

That was his bloody old DADA professor, Remus Lupin! Heavens, he looked a lot like he did in the future except that streaks of gray were missing in his hair. 

The young Remus Lupin grinned and rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly all right until later this afternoon," he replied, but the dark black circles under his eyes contradicted his light words and tone. "Honestly, you ought to stop worrying!" 'Padfoot' shrugged, but continued to eye his friend warily. Lupin turned to look at Draco who was staring at him with large eyes. He grinned and walked over, holding his hand out. Draco stared at it in shock before slipping his hand into that of his future professor's. "Hi, I'm Remus Lupin, I don't think we've met before," he said.

Draco shook his head. "No – er – my name's Draco and…I'm just stopping by. My father wanted me to…to look around Hogwarts. He wants me to transfer next year, you see." 

Lupin's eyes brightened. "Oh! What school did you come from? Beauxbatons?" 

"Heavens no! Durmstrang!" said Draco skeptically. Lupin laughed, but the blonde didn't think that it was a laughing matter. Him? Look like one of those Beauxbatons fools? Dear Merlin, what was the world coming to? 

"Well, Draco, this is my friend Sirius Black." He seemed not to notice Draco's small, ungraceful 'eep' of surprise. Later, the Malfoy heir would deny that any sound similar to an 'eep' left his lips, but that was what happened. "I hope he didn't hurt you too badly – you never know with Sirius over here. He tends to border insanity most of the time," said Lupin teasingly, his smile amicable and open. 

Draco stepped back quickly and eyed the boy called Sirius Black. The convict was glaring at him and Draco couldn't help but feel threatened. He drew his wand and pointed it at Black. "Don't think of coming any closer, Black, I'm warning you," he told the young man threateningly, his voice turning cold.

Lupin looked surprise and Black's scowl faded away into a grimace and a bitter look in his eyes. "No need to worry, you fool," snapped Black as he gestured for Draco to lower his wand. "I'm nothing like my parents." Beside him, Lupin nodded and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

If they expected Draco to feel more comfortable after this declaration, then he believed them to be bigger fools than they already were. "Bloody hell," said Draco, before backing away and then turning to race towards the castle. 

He had initially thought that he would find himself in a safe environment again and would be able to find a secluded corridor where he could turn the time turner four times more so that he ended up in his designated timeline. His belief, however, was quickly dashed to the ground when he saw a crowd standing before the doors. He roughly pushed his way through and was surprised to see the familiar face of his future potions professor. "Severus!" he exclaimed, but thankfully, the crowd's shouts and jokes drowned out his reckless cry. He turned to a girl near him and asked, "What's going on?" 

She grinned at him. "James is giving Snape his due of course!" and then she peered around the boy in front of her and watched the scene unfold with relish.

"So, _Snape, do you really think you can call my girlfriend a Mudblood in front of me?" wondered the young man standing before Draco's head of house. He had black hair that seemed messed up by the imaginary wind and black rimmed glasses. Draco couldn't see his face, but the taunting undertone he bore was dark and angry despite the superficially light voice. Severus himself was pressed against the doors of the school, his wand in his tormentor's hand and his still crooked nose bleeding. His scowl was one of the most hateful ones that Draco had ever seen. On occasion, it was directed at Potter, but not nearly as passionate as it was now. _

"She deserved it, you fool," hissed Snape, his fists balling at his side. "Butting into my business and then subjecting me to her Know-It-All personality!" 

The boy Draco had learned was called James fisted his hand around his wand and he could almost see the stick of wood wavering ever so slightly. Behind him, he heard Black's voice shouting over the din of the crowd. "Move out of my way, damn you!" And when Draco looked back, he saw Black push a boy out of the way and receive no retaliation. 

_They must all be afraid of him is why, thought Draco with an unpleasant roll in his stomach._

Black caught sight of Draco and nodded, albeit a bit coldly, before squeezing through and drawing his wand. "What've you done now,_ Snivellus_?" 

The boy called James turned his head to the side. "He called Lily a Mudblood is what and she ran off in a huff because of it," was the angry reply. Black dropped his wand and lunged at Severus, but thankfully, James pulled him back. "No, not that, Sirius," said the boy with a nasty smile.

Draco saw his face fully at that moment and found himself stumbling backwards once more. Merciful heavens! It was _Potter_! But…no, no, it was Potter's father! Dear Merlin, he wasn't sure if that was worse or not. "Hey, you all right there mate?" said a soft voice in his ear. He was helped back to a steady standing position before he looked to his right. Lupin was looking at him in concern. 

"Er – yeah," he replied. 

Lupin looked at the scene that seemed about to explode into fighting with a terrible expression upon his face. He seemed to be torn between two decisions and it looked like both were too heavy to choose from. Thus he stood there in uncertainty, his youthful face looking drawn. 

James Potter, for now Draco now knew his name, handed Black his wand again and both backed up a little. Severus had no choice but to watch for the doors were at his back and no one in their right mind would turn their back to those two for one second. 

"Hit him hard, Sirius!" exclaimed a chubby boy to Draco's right and he shoved him away. 

"Oh," said Draco when the boy looked irritably at him, "sorry, mate, I got pushed too." 

The boy nodded and shrugged before turning a hungry gaze back towards the fight. "Peter," Draco heard Lupin say and turned to see the shorter man shaking his head with a pained expression. 

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" cried Potter and Black watched in satisfaction as Severus was levitated into the air. _

Draco watched with a terrible feeling in his stomach.

"Do you remember this, _Snivelly_?" drawled Black viciously, his onyx colored eyes dancing with dark pleasure. 

Severus was helpless to do anything except shoot both boys dreadful glares that promised disgusting things placed on their beds at night. 

Potter actually had the nerve to laugh and muttered under his breath. The crowd became louder with merriment as Severus was turned upside down, exposing his underpants beneath his robes. He struggled to free his face from his upturned robes and when he finally succeeded, it was flushed red with humiliation and anger. Around him, everyone laughed, pointing and yelling jokes until, to his embarrassment, his shadowy eyes glimmered brightly.

"Enough!" shouted Draco before he knew what he was doing. He had stepped forward with his wand raised. He muttered the counter curse and Severus dropped to the ground, his face red and his eyes glittering furiously. "How dare you!" he yelled. "_Expelliarmus!" _

Both Black's and Potter's wands soared out of their grasps to Draco along with Severus'. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" cried Potter, his eyes darkening as he whirled around to look at the boy who interrupted him. 

"I'm stopping this bloody madness, is what. You're out of line, Potter. I thought your chivalrous Gryffindor self would know that," drawled Draco, twirling his own wand and pocketing the others. The crowd was silent as they watched.

Black took a step forward, his face a dark mask as he regarded this stranger before him. "I thought you were just visiting. How in Merlin's name do you know that James is in Gryffindor?" 

Draco's mind whirled and he covered up by throwing Severus his wand. His potions professor looking at the wooden stick in surprise before he turned his gaze towards the blonde man that now stood between him and Black and Potter. "What do you think you're doing?" wondered the man and Draco found a small bit of comfort that the young Snape had the same cold tone of voice Draco was so used to hearing during class. 

Grey eyes met onyx and Draco smirked. "What does it look like I'm doing?" and for some reason, that response seemed to pacify any ill feelings that Severus had. 

That was when Black's temper blew up and he gave Draco a blow to the temple. If the blonde headed boy had not been accustomed to unexpected attacks, the punch may have caused more damage than it did. However, he turned his head to the side as he was hit and the brunt of the impact was left for the air as Black, surprised, stumbled forward. Potter caught him, and Draco retaliated with a kick to the convict's stomach and followed that up with a fierce right hook. Black was caught by Potter again and looked at Draco with something else shining in his eyes. His dark eyes seemed to swirl with something akin to admiration as he rubbed his cheek. Instead of striking back himself, Black was helped up by Potter who began attacking in his place, but Severus had launched himself into the brawl and jumped on Potter's back. 

If the situation had been a bit less serious, Draco would have laughed. Severus wasn't the older man he was in the future just yet, despite the cool tones he had mastered, and was rather on the skinny side. His height wasn't the towering stature that the man possessed later in life and he stood a good six or so inches beneath Potter and Black. Thus, the picture of him jumping on Potter's back was humorous indeed. 

Potter's eyes widened surprise as his head was bombarded with weak blows as Severus fought to hold on tightly around his neck. Black turned around at the sound of everyone jeering and laughing and snorted at the sight. James scowled at him and yelled in a hoarse voice, "Get him _off_ of me for Merlin's sake!" 

Black laughed uproariously, and that was when Draco felt his arms freeze tightly against his sides. He looked up in surprise, and saw Potter's face freeze with an expression that matched how Draco felt. The crowd seemed to have long ago dispersed and he heard a familiar voice, though younger, say sternly, "What is going on here?" Draco moved his eyes so that he was looking to his side, but he still could not see the woman who would be his future professor. "_Finite Incantatem," she murmured and he found himself with control over his body once more. _

Once free, he whirled around and looked at the tall woman who held the air of her future self. He caught sight of the tight bun atop her head and the stern expression she wore, then instantly turned tail and ran. 

He ran past a corner and made for the Forbidden Forest. What the hell had he been doing? He hit _Sirius Black_ for Merlin's sake! Was he bloody trying to get himself killed? And he had bloody seen Potter's father! Heavens, he hadn't even gotten to the right timeline yet and already things were going downhill! What would Father say? 

His glance wandered back towards the Time Turner around his neck. He was one generation too far into the past so one turn and the right future incantation for the timeline specialized Time Turner _should do the trick. He muttered the instigation spell and spun the Turner once._

"Ciao," he whispered, and felt that ethereal sensation of the world rolling over.

+++++

Once Draco landed, he found that he was in the middle of a muggle street. A large, green contraption growled at him and he vaguely remembered seeing something much like it in one of his Muggle Studies texts. With no affinity to muggles as well as a great dislike for them, he hadn't had the desire to take the blasted class, but upon his father's orders, he was obliged to. He had learned next to nothing, but not one wizard of witch could forget the strange mechanical thing called an auto that they had seen in one of Professor Nolan's "movies." 

He jumped and walked quickly away when the green auto made a rude sound at him. Fingering his wand with a dark scowl upon his face, he watched until it was out of sight around the corner. Draco glanced around and saw numerous people walking on the white walkways and then he heard the high pitched laughter of children nearby. Deciding to find his way with his map, he made his way towards the bench near the playground.

It was time he found Potter.


	2. Never Move Forward So There'd Never Be A...

(**Author's Note:**Hi, everyone! If you'd like to join my mailing list, please email me at Crunkygurljrt@hotmail.com or leave your email address in a review and ask to be sent an invitation. Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!)

**The Worst of Two Evils**

* * *

  


**_Chapter Two_**

_"Sometimes I think of letting go_

_And never looking back_

**_A_**_nd **N**ever **M**oving **F**orward… _

**_S_**_o **T**here'd **N**ever **B**e **A **Past."_

- _Linkin Park_

* * *

  


Harry's fingers were wrung in a rather hopeless way at his sides. The comforting feeling of his blue ball was sorely absent from his clutch and he wished that he had had the nerve to walk into that pond to get it back. It never occurred to him that he might stand up to Dudley for once in his life. He didn't very much like to even think of what would happen if he did.

He glanced up at his surrogate family and grimaced at his cousin's slowly increasing voice. The slow flush of Dudley's neck began to spread towards his face and reached the tips of his ears before the child stopped completely and stomped his feet. Harry gave the boy a bit of room so as not to become the familiar victim of his cousin's temper. The familiar sound of Aunt P'tunia's high pitched pleading tone sent shivers through the young Potter boy and soon, the screams and fake tears and whining began to fade.

"You again!" came his Uncle's unexpected cry. Harry's bright green eyes darted up to land upon the tall man who stood leaning patiently against the door of Number Four Privet Drive. His ethereal, platinum blonde hair brushed gracefully against the fair skin of his face as he languidly stood up, his fingers lightly twirling a strange wooden stick. Grey eyes danced with what seemed so much like warmth as the young man regarded the family of four, but somehow he retained an expression of superiority at the same time.

At Uncle Verwon's exclamation, the other man's lips curled into what could only be described as a perfected smirk. The twirling stick in his hands came to a stop to be held with what seemed like a more than just a familiar grasp. Harry took a slight step backwards and dropped his gaze as the strange man's own stare landed upon him.

…

Draco sighed, his amusement escalating with every new color that decorated Vernon Dursley's face. "Get away from our home! We don't need you here!" hissed Potter's aunt, miniscule droplets of saliva spraying from her mouth. He watched as she glanced around quickly, as if to make sure that no one saw her in Draco's presence, and he took a step back from the offensive woman. Thank Merlin they were the only ones on the street at the moment – he couldn't bear it if anyone spotted him with this circus of a family. Hell, there was the bouncing ball of a boy who waddled instead of walked, the horse of a mother who spoke and sprayed water all at once, and a fat walrus of a father who could change color; not to mention Potter who stood there like a lump on a log.

"I never thought that you'd be one of them," said Vernon in revulsion. Draco assumed that the man was referring to the clothes he wore. He bloody well _should_be recognized as an aristocrat of society! Yet he couldn't seem to feel any bit of warmth at the thought of a man such as Dursley recognizing him as such. "Go back to your own little world. We don't need any of – of _your_kind here!"

_My kind indeed._

Draco's fingers imperceptibly clenched his wand as the last of any hints of expression leaked away from his face. He took one last glance up and down the street before whispering, "_Alohamora!_" The sound of Vernon's infuriated and frightened growl and his wife's gasp made Draco's eyes glint dangerously. He turned again to face them and pointed with his wand at the house. The mere thought of yet more magic sent everyone scurrying to follow his orders. The round boy that was Potter's cousin was trying his best to stay hidden behind his stick of a mother as they made their way in and the sight almost sent Draco into a bout of laughter.

Potter was the last to enter and Draco followed him inside. It was immaculate, to say the least. There was no sign of anything out of place and it made the young man feel as if he had stepped into a place much like home.

And he hated it upon sight.

He set a stern hand upon Potter's shoulder and looked at the boy's three family members with a cold expression. "I don't want to hear a sound," was all he said before he looked down at the familiar face of the boy he knew from his own timeline. "How about you show me to your room?"

Potter looked at him with those eyes that seemed too big for his face and Draco felt rather than saw the fear that made the tiny body tremor just a bit. It radiated off the child in waves and Draco loosened his hold on the future Gryffindor's shoulder just a bit.

"Go on, then," said Draco.

With a small sigh and a mistrustful glance, Potter unlatched the lock to the side of the staircase and opened the small door. Then he proceeded to gently tug off his worn looking shoes and pick the horrid things up. Green eyes met grey once again before they disappeared into the darkness of the little cupboard. Draco frowned with impatience and opened the door a bit more so that he could look inside. Potter tugged on a white string that hung from the ceiling and, much like magic, there was light. "Ekelticity," muttered Draco knowingly.

He watched as Potter hopped onto the little cot squished into the corner of the diminutive space. The boy folded his hands in his lap and looked at Draco without even a hint of expectation.

Draco's frown deepened, but not with further irritation. He saw a rickety wooden shelf across from the cot with broken figurines and neatly folded pieces of material that Draco wouldn't even consider calling clothing. He turned to looked back at Potter who immediately dropped his gaze. "Your room?" wondered Draco. The boy bit down on his lip and nodded, still staring at his folded hands. The young aristocrat felt like laughing as he entered the room.

And then he hit his head on the low ceiling.

A long stream of profanities slipped from his lips with the ease of practice as he rubbed the aching spot on his forehead. _Bloody wonderful_. His beautiful pale skin would be marred by the eve with a hideous blue and purple spot. He hated bruises – they contrasted too brilliantly with his fair skin to be considered masculine in the least. Draco was nearly crawling as he entered the room and shut the door. He took a seat on the floor in the tiny space between the side of the cot and the door.

"This is your room?" repeated Draco as he crossed his arms on his knees and looked around, an expression of disbelief upon his face.

Potter looked at him patiently and nodded his head. He pointed at the splintered wood that made up the shelf. "That's – um – that's where I keeps things," said the small boy in a soft voice, his eyes searching Draco's. Then he slipped of the cot and padded over to the shelf. Rather than taking one of the toy soldiers or dogs, he pushed them away to pick up what looked like a horse instead. He looked very little, even in the small space that was his room, and the top of his head, messy hair and all, only reached the tip of Draco's, who was seated upon the floor. Potter looked at the man before him and held out the trinket to Draco.

The blonde headed man looked at it for a moment before holding out his hand, palm upwards, to take the toy. What he saw was a tiny unicorn. It was beautifully crafted, though one of its legs was missing and the paint was chipping. The horn, however, remained fully intact, the golden paint still shining mystically in the dim light of the ekeltic glass gadget stuck to the ceiling.

"It's – it's a unicorn," said Potter, breaking the focus of Draco's concentration.

"Mm," was the almost inaudible reply.

"I found it. In – um – in – under the sink. Aunt P'tunia din't like Dudley looking at it," explained the child, holding his hands behind his back, looking at Draco as if for approval.

Draco regarded Harry silently, his eyes peering above the unicorn's back to survey the young boy he was supposed to hate. He looked once more at the figurine in his hand then, abruptly, he slammed open the door and on hands and knees, left the cupboard. He stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. Draco scowled as he flicked a spider of his now dirty boot and caught Potter's bright gaze as he slowly stood up. His lips tightened into a fine white line as he stared at the little boy standing in the doorway of the little room that one would never know was there – and then he turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door on his way out.

* * *

  


What had he been thinking? His orders specifically instructed him to terminate Potter from the past, yet would he be able to do so? He had witnessed murders before, but he had never taken his own part in the dirty deed. He remembered the painful heat of the bile that rose in his throat as he saw others watch the murders of traitors with morbid fascination. Though he may have fooled his father with his mask of cool indifference, inside he felt torn – and he hated how he couldn't fool himself.

_I'll get used to it,_thought Draco.

It was a familiar mantra that now seemed like a continuous voice in the back of his mind. Sometimes it helped to hear it, to think of his shameful terror as yet another obstacle. He had many of those – and he always overcame them. But now, after so many years, he was beginning to lose that wall of confidence that had supported him his entire life.

Would that very wall crumble to ash when he needed it most?

He was branded a beast of society, and if his mask was to slip, he would be hunted down like the monster he was. Wasn't it enough that the burden ate him slowly from inside as his wall gradually collapsed?

It was only when his hand became slippery with wetness that he noticed he still held the ceramic unicorn figurine. The jagged edge of the broken leg had cut into his palm from the vicious force with which he held the small creature. Draco stopped walking completely and looked at the smeared red of his blood that now coated the unicorn's white body. He pulled out his handkerchief and placed the unicorn inside it. He stared at his bloodied hand.

_Would he be able to stand it if the blood wasn't his own?_

And that was when his wall of support collapsed completely.

* * *

  


The moon shone brilliantly against the inky blanket of blackness that surrounded it. The twinkling of the stars was the only reprieve that warmed his heart in the darkness, but it was only like a match in the Antarctic. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to build a fire large enough to warm his entire body ever again.

His face was drawn into a mask of cruel indifference and his eyes were hard as ice. With shoulders strong and tense and a tightly clenched jaw, he looked like a predatory cat ready to strike with fierce claws and vicious fangs.

"_Alohamora!_" he growled. The door slammed loudly open and he entered the house without a care if any muggles saw him. His mission was to be completed and he would not fail yet another time in his life.

He was through with failure.

If he was to be marked as a beast, then he would give them all reason to fear him. Let the world shrink away from him and let their eyes burn with hatred, for his own would glint with the fire of the damned.

Because that's what he was, wasn't he? A creature of hell.

He snapped open the lock to the cupboard and heard the soft gasp from inside as he yanked open the door. Footsteps could be heard on the second level of the home and frightened voices, but Draco couldn't care less. He reached inside the cupboard and pulled out Potter by the arm.

"Put on your shoes," said Draco in a calm tone. Potter's face was pale and his eyes wide as he quickly did as he was told.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" came Vernon Dursley's angry shout. Draco whirled around and his wand shot a red arrow of light that struck the man with what looked to be the force of a car. Dursley was harshly thrown backwards against the wall with a sickening crack and he slid down into a lifeless pile upon the ground.

Draco eyed Dursley's wife and large son expressionlessly. When they said nothing and merely stared at him in horror, he turned around and grabbed Potter by the arm once again and tugged him outside. "If you scream or make a sound," he began, but Potter was already nodding quickly in submission before his sentence was through.

He didn't notice the fiery tingle of his own tears that glittered in the dim light of the moon, and he didn't feel the violent tremors of the tiny boy's body under his hand. All he felt was the heat of adrenaline pumping furiously throughout his body with all the anger he felt for the world.

If the world treated him only with cruelty, he would retaliate with fire.

After a moment of looking up and down the street, Draco apparated away, his hand still firmly grasped around Potter's arm.

…

He didn't know where they were going and all he could think was that his arm was turning numb. They were in the city in a sudden instant, but he refused to even think about it. He would have said the "M" word, but he feared that his captor would get angry if he did. He glanced up at the tall stranger and took in the slight flush that colored the man's pale cheekbones. By the look on his face, Harry felt that the stranger was someplace else than where he merely appeared to be. There was a dangerous glint in the cloudy grey of his eyes, like he was a caged animal, ready to attack if provoked – and Harry didn't want to be the one who sparked him into action.

He knew had to get away, but he didn't know how. All he knew was that his arm was hurting and it was the stranger's fault.

Harry tripped over the uneven walkway and fell with a soft cry. He held out his free arm to break his fall, but was painfully yanked up again before he touched the ground. His eyes darted to the stranger's face. It seemed as if the man had suddenly broken out of his stupor – had broken out of some terrible spell.

His grip on Harry's arm slackened a tad more and the child was immensely relieved. He wasn't quite sure how much longer he could have lasted with his arm held under that iron grip.

"We're taking The Tube," said the young man in a strange tone of voice, as if he wondered at the possibility of ever having said such a thing. "The Tube," repeated the stranger and Harry felt his lips quirk into an odd smile at the bewildered tone.

…

To say the least, Draco was surprised when the Potter boy pulled his arm from Draco's grasp. He whirled around to look at the child, but the four year old's hand was already sliding into his larger one. Once again, he found himself looking into Potter's huge and childish eyes. The boy was scrutinizing him thoughtfully, as if wondering if his action was about to bring about terrible consequences or, perhaps, something pleasant.

He would sadly get neither.

Draco's expressionless façade broke and crumbled under the force of his scowl, and Potter dropped his gaze. The elder boy tugged the younger along by the hand like an insolent child, and soon they were nearing the Tube just as it began to rain. The beautiful day it had been somehow disappeared within the two hours that had passed. And Draco missed it sorely at that moment.

His heart felt heavy and his conscience was weighing heavily on him, even more so on his painful, throbbing heart. Had that man – Vernon Dursley – been seriously hurt by his foolish antics? He had left so abruptly and without a thought that he had forgotten the simplest of rules.

Do not leave a trail.

His magical signature would be identifiable from Potter's uncle, but he doubted that anyone would really be able to track him down with it. After all, he didn't yet exist. If he made the same mistake again, however, aurors would be pouring down from everywhere to put him in Azkaban. He had stolen Harry Potter from right under Albus Dumbledore's nose and the entire wizarding world would probably be in a state of chaos in just a few days.

They would be after him, soon, despite that. His father had even told him that a few renegade Death Eaters would try to see to his death at one point because of his kidnapping of Potter. But his mission was to be complete by that time. The entire mission wasn't supposed to have even taken two hours – not days, not weeks, not months. Yet Draco wondered how long it would take him to summon up his courage and finish his dirty deed.

He glanced at the tiny boy attached to his hand. Potter was walking along like they were going on a daily stroll. The child's hand was held at a slight distance, as if the boy wasn't quite sure what to do with it, the questionable thing being in a stranger's hand, after all. His face was set forward, yet his eyes were trained upon the ground, his long dark lashes brushing gently against his childish cheeks.

The duo stepped into the train car and Draco gingerly chose a seat in the aisle and let Potter squeeze his way to the seat beside the window. The blonde haired young man pulled his hand from Potter's and held on tightly to the chair before him instead. When the train began to move, he didn't notice how white his knuckles had turned.

The woman in the seat in front of Potter had turned around to see who was grasping the seat next to her so tightly, and caught sight of little Harry. Her face was young and rather attractive, but Draco was too focused on the ridiculous speed of this contraption that he thought of more as a hazard, to notice.

She looked to be around her mid-thirties, and as a smile brightened her features, she said gaily, "What a charming little boy!" to Harry.

Draco's eyes shot towards Potter and he wondered if this was true. He looked a bit too scrawny to be considered "charming" or, Merlin forbid it, "_cute._" The child's bloody _clothing_looked as if it had been handed down from some distant relative the size of a _hippogriff_, but Draco felt that it was safe to assume that the dreaded things were hand-me-downs from his very round cousin.

Potter blinked at her for a few moments before the side of his mouth quirked up into a little half-smile. The woman was positively thrilled and Draco's eyebrows lifted in amusement as she wiggled in her seat to get a better view at the both of them. "My name's Dorthea Woods, what's your name?" She glanced at Harry, then at Draco – a universal question.

Draco felt Potter's eyes on him, as if the tiny boy were asking for permission. He turned grey eyes towards green and gave the slightest of nods and turned to look at his hands. Quickly, he pulled them back and grasped them tightly in his lap. The blasted train was slowing down, and he felt as if he was going to fall forward at any moment.

"Harry," responded Potter in an almost inaudible voice. He was staring at Dorthea from under his long black lashes.

She clapped her hands together in delight and searched quickly through her purse. "I'm sure I've got a piece of candy in here for you." She pulled out a big lollipop, and then another. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed and handed one to Harry.

Potter looked at Draco once again and the older boy felt his irritation start to burn. "It may be poisonous," said the Head Boy casually, his tone as unreadable as his face. Dorthea smile and chuckled happily, as if were a joke, and Draco's gaze drifted over her.

_Idiot woman._

Harry looked at the lollipop hesitantly, chewing on his lip, and then he turned to look at Draco again, a great conflict in his eyes. Draco rolled his own and took the blasted lollipop from Dorthea's grasp. "Just eat the bloody thing," he muttered, and resumed gazing resolutely forward.

Dorthea was looking at him strangely now, but said only, "Would you like one too, dear? You're never too old for a lollipop." She smiled at him encouragingly, holding out yet another sweet. Draco clenched his jaw tightly and barely restrained himself from pulling out his wand and using an Unforgivable on her. Instead, he merely ignored her.

_I just saved your life, woman,_he thought savagely. He found it ironic how he had done exactly that – but he had only saved her from himself.

Beside him, there was the rustle of plastic – it was Potter trying vainly to open his lollipop. "Here, love, let me get that for you," said Dorthea in her sickeningly sweet voice.

Harry watched avidly as she pulled the plastic off and handed it to him. He blinked at it for a few moments before his tiny pink tongue escaped from his lips and grazed over the lollipop. A small smile lit his face as he glanced up at Dorthea. Draco scowled. She was wiggling in her seat again.

The train finally came to a stop and Dorthea jumped up. She handed the second lollipop to Harry. "This is for your brother, dearest, give it to him when he's not quite so sour. And if he doesn't want it, feel free to be a bit selfish and keep it to yourself," she said with a jolly grin. Then she turned and made her way to the exit.

  
Harry merely watched her go with large green eyes and the lollipop in his mouth. He liked how he could barely get the entire thing in his mouth, and could taste the sweet sugary flavor on his tongue. He was never allowed to get much candy, if any at all. Dudley usually took it all for himself.

_Feel free to be a bit selfish and keep it to yourself…_Harry's cheeks turned pink at the idea. He could never do such a thing as that. He turned to look at the stranger beside him and tried sticking the white lollipop stick between the blonde man's tightly clenched hands. All he got was a cold stare. Shrugging, Harry concentrated on his own lollipop and held the other in his hand. He would save it, as Dorthea said, for when the stranger was not quite so sour. He hoped that that time would come soon.

A family came in, a woman, a man, and their daughter who resembled Dudley, though she was rather on the skinny side. She looked to be one of those children that can eat everything and never gain an ounce, and her eyes were narrowed as if she was scrutinizing everyone with the most critical of eyes. Her mouth was tilted slightly downwards in a permanent frown, and in this way she greatly resembled her mother, who sat in the aisle seat talking to the father. Harry lowered his eyes as the daughter turned around in her seat and looked first at Draco, then at Harry.

Her frown deepened and she looked at her mother. "Mummy, I want to sit in the aisle," said the little girl. She seemed to be about six years of age, but her tone made her sound younger. "Mummy," she repeated, tugging on her mother's sleeve. But she was continuously ignored. With a huff, the girl bounced around in her seat and finally rested her gaze upon Harry again.

"Are those yours?" she asked, pointing at the lollipops in Harry's hands. Harry pulled his lollipop out of his mouth and looked at it. He nodded. "I'd like one," she told him, a command in her tone. She held out her hand expectantly and her narrowed light brown eyes were trained predatorily on Harry's. She might have been a beautiful child had she smiled more, but at the moment, she looked rather repulsive in the most horrible way – she looked spoiled rotten and very selfish.

Harry looked at the lollipops, and then at the stranger beside him, who was still staring directly forwards. Chewing on his lip, he thought that at one point, he may have given the girl his lollipop – he was never one to hoard anything. But the nice lady named Dorthea Something had given him this lollipop, and one for his stranger. It wasn't in his place to give somebody's anything away.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. He took another glance at his stranger and saw a frown creasing the elder boy's forehead.

The girl looked at him in surprise, and then at her empty hand. "But I want one," she said insistently.

"I'm very sorry," Harry repeated, holding the sticks of the lollipops tighter. He didn't care that his left hand was sticky from licking the lollipop so much, but he really did not want to give any of the candies away.

She scowled. "You're supposed to share, stupid!" she exclaimed, and this time her mother turned to look at her.

"Not so loud, please, Angel," said the woman, then she once again turned around to speak with her husband.

Angel, for Harry assumed that that was her name, quickly snatched the unopened lollipop from Harry's grasp. She smiled smugly at him when he stared at her in surprise. Draco turned to eye the little brat of a girl who sat in front of them, and looked at Harry whose cheeks began to color with a pink flush. The little boy dropped his gaze, but Draco noted that the hand holding the other lollipop was clenched tightly in a small fist.

A perfectly curved brow lifted slightly at the scene. Was Harry Potter submitting to the will of another? he thought mockingly. Too bad no one else was here to see this – they'd get the real picture of their Golden Boy then.

Harry's eyes began to sting. What was he to do? That girl had just stolen his stranger's lollipop. Was he supposed to take it back? No, no – of course not. He'd just get in trouble; he always did…

At the sudden sparkle in the boy's green eyes, Draco felt his gut clench uncomfortably. He scowled as he watched the little brat ironically named Angel trying to unwrap the blasted pop. Hopefully it was poisoned, he thought.

"What did you say?" said the blasted girl staring at the boy before her in surprise. Draco looked at her, then at Harry who was clutching his own lollipop more tightly than ever.

"That's not yours," said the child again, though his voice was barely audible.

That confounded feeling in his chest was becoming stronger and finally, Draco reached over and plucked the lollipop from the girl's grasp. When she stared at him in shock, he smirked. "Didn't your mummy ever tell you it's wrong to steal?"

And then Angel began to scream. It was more of a banshee shriek, Draco thought, but he merely stared at her coldly. When the girl's mother turned to look at her daughter in surprise, Angel pointed at Draco with a scrunched up face and watery eyes.

With the girl's parents staring at him critically, he stared back at them with the coldest look he could muster. They wanted to play the staring game, did they? Well he'd teach them a thing or two about cold stares…

"H-He took m-my lollipop!" cried Angel, her finger still pointed at Draco.

He rolled his eyes heavenwards and lazily folded his arms across his chest. "You little twit – I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't stolen it first," he replied. The parents gasped in unison and he just smirked again.

The father stood up and looked at him with an expression that clearly seemed to say, "You've gone too far young man," and indeed, he said it soon afterwards. However, his stance seemed to say that he was merely doing a duty, a burdensome duty.

Draco grinned grimly. "And what line would that be?"

The mother gasped and picked up her daughter who continued to wail as if the world was ending. The father's brow furrowed and became drawn into a frown. "Now look here -," but Draco soon became tired of the whole charade and cut him off.

"No, you look here. That brat of a daughter you call Angel needs to attend finishing school. If you allow her to go on as she has been, you'll be dealing with _that_for the rest of your life. Is that what you really want?" asked Draco, gesturing towards the squalling girl.

The father looked from the daughter, to Harry who stared up at him with tear-clouded eyes as he held his lollipop to his chest, and back again. The mother stared at her husband in disbelief. "Roger, you won't let him talk to us in this manner, will you?"

Roger frowned again. "Angel, stop crying this instant or you won't have any dessert tonight."

Angel ceased her tirade in shock and stared at her father. "But, Daddy!"

The train slowed to a stop and the doors opened. "Here's our stop," said Roger curtly and after one last glance at Draco, he stepped off the train. The mother sniffed and Angel stared in surprise at first her retreating father, then at Draco.

When the train began to move again, Draco smirked. Merlin, that felt good.

There was a moment of silence, and then he felt a tug on the sleeve of his jumper. "Are you going to eat it now?" Draco looked down at Harry, who stared back at him coyly.

Draco looked at the lollipop in his hand, then felt the tugging in his chest slowly subside as he began to peel off the plastic.

**Author's Notes:**

**Didge: **thanks for your review! You were my first reviewer for this story :o) And you gave me two reviews!

**Tati 1:**thanks for joining my mailing list!****

**Gia: **I'm glad u liked the length!****

**Witchblade Hell: **I'm delighted that you think this is a creative story. The plot is kind of unstructured at this point, but I'm working on it bit by bit. I've got the Hogwarts part planned out so far. I'm so, so happy you like my writing style, by the way. :o) I'm trying to improve in time for my AP exam for English. ****

**Sapphrine: **hehe, I'm glad you liked the part with the marauders!****

**Shezan: **sorry this took so long to get out!****

**Madame Moony: **thanks**!**

**Chang Wumei: **Thanks for the review! As for slash…not sure as of yet. When Draco gets back to Hogwarts a ton of chapters from now…we'll see. ;o)****

**Evanescence55: **thanks! As for ItMotN…I've got the chapter pretty planned out…I'm at a hurdle right now. I feel like I'm too short to jump over it…****

**Arafel2: **thanks!****

**DragongirlG: **thanks so much for review! It makes me happy :o)****

**Smilez: **glad u like it so far!****

**Andromeda Snape-Malfoy: **thanks**!**

**Water-drifter: **thanks! Sorry about the incredibly long wait!!****


	3. Dancing in Your Dust

(**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! If you'd like to join my mailing list, please email me at or leave your email address in a review and ask to be sent an invitation. Thanks! I hope you like this chapter! **Note:** this chapter is really **PG-13** because of a bit of angry language. Just thought you ought to know.)

**The Worst of Two Evils**

* * *

_**Chapter Three** _

_"From below, in my seclusion_

_look up to the sky to see paper wings_

_and watch them burn…_

_Dancing in the rain of descending ash,_

**_d_**_ancing **i**n **y**our **d**ust._

_- AFI_

* * *

__

It's a strange sensation, looking down upon the one person in the world you hate most…that is, the one person in the world you hate more than yourself. Draco had never been one to express his feelings in a way other than with hexes and curses, cruel sneers and smirks, cold tones and acerbic insults. However, as he sucked on his lemon-flavored lollipop, he couldn't help but feel that he'd like to smile.

But he didn't of course.

He merely tried to ignore the weird feeling of the edges of his lips curving upwards, and he tried most of all to ignore the green gaze that was trained so fixedly upon him. Swallowing and relishing the sour taste of lemon on his tongue, Draco scrunched his face up at the flavor of his bit of candy.

At the softest of giggles, Draco turned to look at the little boy whose face was sticky with lollipop goodness. "You're disgusting, Potter," drawled the older boy.

Potter blinked at him and his smile soon faded away when that was the only response he got. Harry sighed and looked at his lollipop stick, which was now just a damp little stick. He could still taste the tangy flavor of the orange sweet, and he sighed in reminiscence. His mind drifted to the fact that this stranger seemed to know his name. He didn't think they'd met before…The man didn't seem to be that old…younger than Uncle Verwon surely, although at one point, his stranger seemed so mature, so experience in life. Just this night, his stranger had stood up to Angel's father.

Harry warily turned to look at the blonde man beside him. "What's a twit?" he asked softly.

Draco's eyes turned towards Harry's sharply. "Pardon?" he replied automatically, his surprise overriding any biting remark he might have made.

"A – a twit?" repeated the little boy, his voice growing softer with increasing uncertainty.

Draco's eyes narrowed and he felt a surge of momentary satisfaction when Potter shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "It's not a word you should repeat," he said.

After that, neither spoke a word, although Harry was very curious as to where his stranger was taking him. Were Uncle Verwon and Aunt P'tuna calling the policemen to chase after him? Was Dudley sad that he didn't have anyone to taunt anymore?

He looked down at his sticky hands and licked his sticky and orange flavored lips before thinking, no – they wouldn't be worried about him at all. He was a freak, wasn't he?

Before he knew it, his fingers were being pulled from his mouth and a handkerchief was being wiped all over his face. Harry glanced up and didn't know how he was supposed to feel about the scowl on the stranger's face. However, despite the annoyed expression, the his stranger's touch was oddly gentle.

Draco looked at the tiny face that held eyes too green and too big, sighing as they met his own gray ones. Potter's face was scrunched up as the elder boy scrubbed his face clean and when it was over, he giggled. Draco rolled his eyes, and he wondered at the light feeling in his chest that threatened to explode – he had never felt the urge to laugh so insanely at so random a time before.

He kind of liked it.

He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket and felt his fingers brush something cold and smooth. Oh, yes, he'd forgotten. He pulled out the tiny ceramic unicorn and looked at it for a moment. When he glanced over at Potter, the boy was looking at it wide eyed. Draco pushed it at the boy. "Here," he snapped, "it was a bloody mess – what with one of its legs missing. I fixed it, so don't break it again." And with that, he crossed his arms over his chest irritably.

So _there_.

* * *

Harry stared down at the unicorn in surprise. The leg was as perfect as the rest of the creature and when he touched it, it was actually real. How did his stranger fix it so well?

Finally, when he glanced back up at his stranger, the older boy was scowling with his arms crossed before him. When Harry murmured a soft, "Thank you," the boy's head shot towards him.

He seemed surprised and Harry wondered now if he shouldn't have said anything. He didn't really know who his stranger was, really. Not at all, except that this strange older boy took him away from Privet Drive in the middle of the night and now all he was wearing were his tattered night clothes. He wondered if maybe they could go back for just a little bit so he could get some regular clothes, because he was getting a tad cold.

Harry glanced over at his stranger only to find that the boy had his arms crossed over his chest and a formidable scowl placed firmly upon his face.

He pulled his knees up instead of speaking, for fear of dreadful retribution, and leaned his head against the window. Now that the adrenaline had worn off from earlier tonight, he suddenly felt tired. He was tired and cold, but he figured that he could ignore it for a while. He normally did so back at the Dursley's anyway.

As his eyes drifted to a close, he remembered the sweet taste of his orange lollipop and felt the corners of his lips turn up in a small smile.

* * *

Draco didn't really know why he was fighting so hard to be angry. He hated being angry. He hated the way the anger ate at his chest and made him feel guilty afterwards. He hated how his magic sometimes went haywire when he was positively furious.

Tonight, thankfully, he had not done anything he would later regret. Well…he glanced down beside him where Potter had fallen asleep leaning against the window of the train car. He frowned. Well…he hadn't really don't anything that he couldn't _undo_. He wondered vaguely if the hex he had cast upon Potter's relative…Dursley, Sr., was permanent. A part of him didn't really regret it for a moment.

What kind of a man locked up children in cupboards under the stairs?

He had heard that Potter had lived in something like that somewhere – oh yes, at school from Professor Snape. Merlin, did that man have a grudge against Potter!

But Draco had rolled his eyes dramatically and ignored it. How could Bloody-Saint-Potter ever have lived in such a place. The boy was worshiped by the entirety of the bloody magical world and he lived in a fucking cupboard for his young life? Nobody with half a mind would believe a bloody crock like that.

And then Draco wondered if anyone in the world actually had a half bit of sense.

Draco laughed mirthlessly to himself. What kind of world would spawn fucked up monsters like him if not a world run by half wits?

What kind of a world forced a race of people to hide their existence from others?

A random voice coughed from around him suddenly, breaking his train of thought. "…last stop…I repeat, all passengers must exit to the doors on the left."

Draco didn't really register what it was that the voice said, but all that was left of the occupants of the car stood up and left through the designated doors. He scowled and turned to Potter who was happily snoozing in the most uncomfortable position known to man. The boy's leg had fallen from it's propped up position on the chair and the child's arms pillowed his head on the window.

Rather uncertain as to how he was supposed to around a sleeping toddler, Draco tapped the boy's shoulder. "Potter, wake up," he commanded. He got an odd stare from the last passenger and shot the old man his coldest glare. That got the old coot scooting quickly from the tube car. Draco shook the boy's shoulder harder. "Wake up, damn you!" said the head boy in a demanding tone.

Potter squirmed away from the other boy's touch murmuring pleadingly, "Just – just a bit longer…please…"

And somehow, to Draco's bewilderment, the boy managed to fall asleep once again, curled up in the seat of the train like a kitten. With an aggravated sigh, Draco gingerly picked the child up. He was shocked and utterly disgusted when the boy's arms snaked around his neck and his legs instinctively wound around his torso. Draco swallowed in horror as he looked down at the tiny head that buried itself into his neck.

What the fuck was going on?

* * *

He couldn't help it, but he needed something to distract himself. In the midst of this strange world, he felt unhinged and frightened – though he would never actually admit this to anyone, let along himself. That bloody muggle loving fool Professor Nolan didn't teach them anything about this stupid place. He barely recognized anything from his Muggle Studies text book!

Something tickled his neck and Draco looked down at the mop of messy black locks under his chin. How was this boy so little? He was nothing compared to the older pompous pouf he knew at Hogwarts.

In fact, they really didn't seem much alike at all.

He had no doubt that the boy that he carried down the white walkway was The-Boy-Who-Lived, but it was only the resemblance to Future-Potter that assured Draco that this was Past-Potter. If not for the face, Draco would never have guessed that this was the thorn forever poking his arse.

Finally, after a bit of walking, Draco found someone he deemed worthy to talk to – for a muggle of course – and strolled up to the woman casually. "Pardon me, ma'am," he said in his most cultured tone, "but would you happen to know where I might find a decent hotel in this area?"

The woman turned to speak to him and her eyes brightened as she looked him over and heard him speak. "Well what a charming young man!" She caught sight of Potter who had positively wrapped himself around Draco like a parasite and exclaimed. "Aw! He's darling!"

Draco cursed old women and their sweet-talk.

"Um, I'm sure there's a rather nice inn just two blocks down that way," the woman told him with a smile, pointing further down the street. Circe, did he want to curse her smile to Hades.

He nodded to her and without another word said, turned and walked away. In his haste to get away from her, he stumbled on an uneven block of the white walkway and cursed – a long stream of often repeated profanities flying from his lips. He heard a slight gasp and saw the woman walking quickly away, glancing behind her in consternation as she muttered about young men now-a-days. Draco regained his balance and ignored the faint warmth that touched his cheeks as he pointedly ignored her.

This was most definitely not his night.

Draco stood up and found that his arms had instinctively found a place wrapped around little Potter's waist. He frowned down at them as if they had done him a great wrong, but he shook his head and made no move to change their position. The brat, however, shifted in his grasp and let out a small sigh before further burying his head in the crook of Draco's neck.

The head boy refused to say that it tickled. Apparently, in the Malfoy Code of Conduct it says that Malfoy's are not ticklish. Nor are they tickled by Potters – Future ones or Past ones.

After a few more minutes of walking – Draco vowed to never tell anyone he was forced to belittle himself by walking to his destination in the muggle world – they finally arrived at the inn. He walked in and walked up to the counter where the man sat up to greet him with a strained smile.

"How may I help you, sir?"

"I need a room please," said Draco, "preferably a suite."

"Yes, unfortunately without a reservation, all that is left available is a single room on the second floor. However, it's very well furnished with a queen sized bed for you and your…" he trailed off in question, but Draco ignored him.

"How much, please?"

The man pushed on the little buttons on the desk. Draco pulled out his money pouch and looked at the wad of bits of paper. Now what exactly was he supposed to do with this? Stupid muggles and their muggle paper money. He shook his head and pulled out a few bills.

The man at the counter stared incredulously at him as he took the offered money. He stared down at the bills for a few moments before handing back five of them. Draco took them back as well as the coins that the man forced towards him. With a frown, Draco accepted the proffered key and made his way to the steps.

Third floor…room 304…

At least the key system was the same around this place.

He finally stepped into the room and a bed had never looked so good as it did then – despite its being a bit smaller than his four poster at home or even at school.

And then it hit him that it wouldn't be his alone at all. He spotted an armchair next to the picture box that Professor Nolan had told them about. However, he doubted that Potter would be comfortable enough sleeping there for the night. Draco walked over to the bed and tried pulling the boy from his torso.

He had tried this immediately after Potter had attached himself around Draco's neck, but the result had been the same. It was as if the boy's arms were permanently glued together.

Bloody hell.

Draco bent over enough that Potter was half lying on the soft mattress and that seemed to do it. The boy's arms and legs let him go and the child curled up comfortably against a pillow.

Draco made as if to cover the little creature with the blankets, but caught himself quickly and took a few steps backwards.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to dispose of the boy. Everything was supposed to change it was supposed to change tonight. But he had botched the job and here he was, babysitting Potter in the past.

* * *

_Hide the body._

That's what the letter said. He was supposed to kill Potter and hide the body. Just the thought of burying this tiny four-year-old's body made bile rise in his throat.

He hated it and he swallowed the burning feeling back down, but the fire didn't fade away.

The stupid boy really had no idea, Draco thought, as he felt the smooth wood of his wand in his hand. He looked down at it.

It was strange how such a simple thing could bring about so much destruction. Just the mere utterance of a few words and something as great as a life could be easily extinguished.

Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired anymore. Rather, he felt mentally exhausted and sat heavily onto the armchair, facing the bed where the little boy lay curled up.

He didn't know why it was so hard. He'd learned all about death and how to wield it with magic. He had learned to hate with such intensity that, combined with magic, it could destroy life.

Most importantly, he'd learned to hate Harry Potter – and he'd learned to hate him most of all.

It shouldn't have been hard, killing him now. There shouldn't have been any doubts or excuses. There shouldn't have been a moment of hesitation. No one even knew he was here in this timeline.

Biting down fiercely on his lip, he stood up and carefully aimed his wand down at the boy. Gods, did he _hate_ the young man this boy grew up into. He hated him with a passion that had been fueled for seven years. He'd forced himself to relive every insult and every humiliation caused by Potter in order to prepare himself for this moment. He'd forced himself to look past his shields and see what he could not ever be…

And that was the worst thing of all.

But somehow, staring into the innocent face of this child made Draco feel sick with shame.

For Merlin's sake, Potter didn't even have a clue! Here he was just a child, a little boy who knew nothing about magic and evil wizards with grudges the size of dragons that would make up the world in the future. Now, all he was was a neglected child who lived in a shabby cupboard.

At that moment, Potter squirmed and turned over on the bed, his face burying itself into a pillow.

Draco found himself stumbling backwards as if he had been hit by a curse, and he fell back into the armchair. He looked at Potter in fear before he buried his face in his hands.

It shouldn't have been this hard.

* * *

Harry felt his eyes flutter open, but he quickly shut them again when the light blinded him. He shifted and turned onto his back so he could push himself up to a sitting position, and he noticed how soft his mattress was. When he finally got accustomed to the light of the room, he found that he wasn't in his cupboard.

He rubbed his eyes to get wipe the sleep from his eyes and he found that he still wore his glasses. He pushed them back to their position at the bridge of his nose and looked around the room.

He spotted his stranger in an awkward position on the armchair, fast asleep. Harry looked down at himself and found he was still in his night clothes. He remembered being awfully cold because his stranger hadn't let him take any other item of clothing but his shoes. Now, as he looked down, he noticed that he was covered in blankets and had been tucked in tightly.

Harry couldn't remember a time he'd felt so comfortable…and so safe.

He pulled himself from the bed and jumped off of it, down to the floor. He spotted shoes a bit away, as if they'd been tossed carelessly aside last night.

Silently, he trotted over to the armchair and sat down cross-legged at the foot of it, staring up at his stranger curiously. Why was he here? What did this young man want with him?

Harry thought quickly, but he couldn't think of any special qualities that he had that would make someone want him. He thought about it some more and remembered that the stranger didn't seem to want him at all, really. He didn't have any parents, and the Dursleys weren't particularly fond of him, so he didn't think that he was here because of a ransom.

So why would this stranger want to steal him? He was only a freak whose parents had had died in a car accident.

Harry stood up and brushed off imaginary dirt from the pants of his night clothes – it was really a habit from when he sat on the floor of his cupboard. Sometimes he accidentally killed spiders when he sat down, despite his trying to avoid it. The light wouldn't turn on sometimes.

He looked at his stranger curiously. The older boy had a healing cut lip and the knuckles on one of his hands were green and brown – recovering bruises from something awful, thought Harry. He'd seen enough of those on his own body to know how soon it would take for them to go away. He gave it a couple of days, three at the most.

The clothes his stranger wore tonight were a lot different from the nice ones he had worn yesterday. Harry tentatively reached out a hand to touch the soft fabric. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched and it seemed light and airy for the season as well. His stranger must be really rich, then, thought Harry. He'd never in his life seen or felt anything so nice before.

Harry's eyes went back to the healing bruises on the other's hand. Where had those come from? One time Uncle Verwon had punched a door and his hand had looked much the same. Maybe the stranger had done something of that sort?

He glanced back up at the man's face and made a sound of surprise as he noticed his stranger staring down at him. Harry jumped up quickly and snatched his hand away from where it had gently touched the bruises. He stumbled back and landed on his rump, his eyes never leaving the icy cold gray ones that bore into his own.

"See something interesting, Potter?" drawled the stranger. The older boy sat up and stretched, graceful as a cat – or a powerful panther. In response, Harry stood up quickly and ran to the other side of the bed, well away from the stranger. The man seemed to find this oddly amusing and said as such, which only made Harry duck slightly behind the bed.

When the stranger actually stood up, Harry, seeing no place else, dashed under the bed.

* * *

Draco felt a slight pain in his neck and slowly blinked his eyes open. The first thing he saw was a mop of untidy black hair and he felt the faintest touch on his hand. Careful not to move, he watched as Potter leaned over the arm of the chair and peered at the bruises on his hand.

Then the boy had glanced up at him and started back quickly, as if fearful of harm. Draco almost frowned at that, but kept his mask in check. He was quite good at it now.

The boy had positively scurried away and Draco resisted the urge to laugh when the klutz had fallen on his behind. "See something interesting, Potter?" he had asked, to mask his wonder. The pain in his neck had not receded yet and he stretched, trying to get the ache to recede. It didn't quite work, but now it was more bearable.

The boy ran behind the bed and scampered under it. Draco didn't laugh, but he smirked as he looked down at it.

And then he remembered that he had slept in the armchair.

Potter…you manipulative little leech, thought Draco, but it lacked the usual malice that accompanied his insults. Instead, there was a bit of misplaced approval there.

He decided to let Potter stay under the bed. It probably wasn't too comfortable and that thought at least made Draco feel a bit better as he walked to the window.

Last night had brought a torrent of emotions that Draco had never thought he could feel. Sure, he'd felt fear before, but the kind he felt last night was not born of something life-threatening. It was born out of something somehow more monstrous than that which would extinguish a life with the utterance of two words. It was something that made him question what exactly he was doing here, and why he came here in the first place.

And it was something that had him staring at Potter's slumbering form for the better part of the night. It had him walking over to the bed and pulling the boy's shoes from his feet. It had him pulling the covers out so he could cover the child's shivering form when earlier that day, he wouldn't have cared if Potter had frozen to death or not.

It had him feeling more things that he didn't want to feel, never thought he could feel.

In the end, it was what brought a grim half-smile to his face.

He stared at his light reflection in the window and took in his eye bags, his ruffled blonde hair, his all around disheveled appearance. For some reason, he didn't really mind it. It made him feel relaxed despite the fact that he was exhausted.

After a short moment, he turned and knelt to look under the bed. Potter's eyes stared at him fearfully from beneath it and Draco felt that half-smile threatening to emerge again. He quelled it down, but he didn't care when he heard it arise in his voice as he said, "Come out of there, Potter – you don't expect me to go into public with you in those awful rags, now do you?"

He even stretched out a hand, in the hopes of beckoning the child out, but he was completely astonished when, after a moment, a tiny hand slipped into his. Potter used it to pull himself from under the bed and when he stood, he didn't let go of Draco's hand. He merely stood there, staring up at the older boy with his head cocked to the side curiously.

Then the boy looked down at the hand in his and touched the knuckles. Draco too looked down and felt himself stiffen ever so slightly.

The bruises were gone.

And Harry smiled up at him.

* * *


	4. Running Away From the Streets We Knew

(**Author's Note:** Hi, everyone! If you'd like to join my mailing list, please email me at or leave your email address in a review and ask to be sent an invitation. Thanks! I hope you like this chapter!)

**The Worst of Two Evils**

* * *

**_Chapter Four_**

_"From the sidewalks,_

**_R_**_unning **A**way **F**rom **t**he **S**treets **W**e **K**new_

_Sidewalks…_

_Like the time we thought was made for you."_

_- Story of the Year_

* * *

Draco really didn't know what to think. One minute there was the tiniest bit of pain, and then that little boy was smiling up at him and the ach was gone. The ach in his hand, however, was soon replaced with a burning sensation in his chest that spread through his entire body as he looked down at the child's innocent smile.

The boy's green eyes were practically _glowing_ as Draco looked down at them, and before he knew it, he was stumbling away from the tiny creature. His hand flew out of the little one that held it and he found himself sprawled awkwardly on the armchair.

He stared at his knuckles for quite some time and slowly, he glanced upwards to see Potter staring at him wide-eyed. The boy was standing flat against the wall, his arms stiff at his sides. He murmured something inaudibly and Draco rubbed his forehead.

"What was that, Potter?" wondered Draco softly, his voice void of any emotion other than curiosity. He felt, however, anything but calm. By all accounts, this boy had just healed him – at the age of bloody four years. And it seemed an intentional bit of magic. Accidental magic, he could understand – magic born of emotions threatening to explode…but this little phenomenon was nothing of the sort.

When the child didn't answer, Draco stood up and slowly walked a bit closer.

"I didn't mean to," whispered Harry, his voice cracking. His eyes were so round that they seemed to take up as much space as the glasses on his face.

The words were still barely audible and Draco stepped closer only to watch as the boy tried to meld himself into the wall. "What was that?"

After one more step, Draco was within reaching distance, and Harry suddenly shrieked, "I didn't mean to!" Draco started backwards in surprise and the child kept screaming, "_I didn't mean to_! **_I didn't mean to_**!"

Draco put his hands up in a calming gesture, but Harry had shut his eyes tightly with tears slipping passed them and continued to scream his denial. "Now…just calm down," said Draco in what he hoped was a pacifying tone. "It's okay," he told Harry softly.

And then the boy jumped away from the wall and raced towards the bed, but half expecting it, Draco stepped in his way and picked him up. Harry tried jerking away, but the hands holding him only tightened further to hold him in place. "No! I didn't mean to!" he cried and continued to try to free himself in vain. "I'm sorry!"

There came a knock on the door and before Draco could do anything, a woman had poked her head through the door. "Pardon," she said softly, when Harry stopped screaming, "I heard you across the hall…is everything all right?"

Draco would have insulted her if the situation he was in hadn't been so awkward. He felt a damned fool for not locking the stupid door. Instantly, he let go of Potter, and the boy, as if understanding that his hiding place was blocked at the moment, scurried back to the corner of the room against the wall.

The woman stepped inside completely now, but she didn't close the door. She looked at Draco for a moment, calculatingly, before turning to Potter. The boy stared at her with frightened wide eyes as she casually approached him, the look in those emerald green depths that of a cornered animal.

This, for some odd reason, created a feeling of sheer anger in Draco. He felt tendrils of fury licking at his insides and they began turning white with blinding heat as the woman walked over and knelt before Potter.

"Is he hurting you, dear?" asked the woman softly, and Draco heard a strange cackling in the air as the air around them suddenly grew denser.

"Get away from him," Draco all but growled.

The woman's head shot around and she looked at him, half surprised and half angered. What the hell did she have to be angry about, thought Draco. She frowned at him, and her eyes spoke depths about who should be giving the orders just about now.

Deciding to ignore him, she reached a hand out and a small whimper escaped Potter's lips as he struggled once again to make himself one with the wall. The woman tilted her head to the side with a small, reassuring smile and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

All at once, Draco was yelling, "Don't touch him! Don't you dare!" over Potter's piercing scream. The cackling in Draco's ears exploded all at once and for a moment, he was blinded by the brightest blue light he'd ever seen. He staggered backwards, shielding his eyes…

And then it was over.

When he looked up from his fallen position on the floor, the woman was nowhere to be seen – and neither was Potter.

He jumped up frantically and saw that the door was open. He raced to it and looked around. His eyes landed on the woman who sprinted down the hallway, glancing back. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she positively tore down the hallway.

Draco suddenly found that he had no energy left, and he wouldn't waste what he had on chasing after a stupid muggle. Let her run away.

He shut the door quietly instead and sank to the floor, his back leaning against the wood. His breathing was shallow and coming out in uneven gasps. Laying his head in his hands, he wondered how everything could have gone so wrong.

He'd been sent to do a deed, and he'd come here to the past to do it…but last night he'd found that whatever it was he needed to kill Potter, he didn't have. Sure, he had enough hatred for the young man Potter became, but the boy he knew now was not the man that Draco hated.

Now…now that he'd finally been able to think some things through and control his emotions, the boy had disappeared.

But perhaps it was for the best…

That was when he heard the faintest scuffing sound – and it came from under the bed.

Draco nearly fainted with relief, but where this warmth was coming from, he didn't dare wonder. He crawled over to the bed, to tired to care about his dignity, and he lay flat on the ground as he lifted the bedspread and peeked under it. There, as he had been earlier, was Harry Potter staring back at him, his eyes large and round behind his lenses.

"Merlin's balls, Potter, you great bloody twit," he muttered, before he fell into a dead faint.

* * *

Harry didn't think he'd ever been so frightened in his life. He didn't know that he'd made the bruises disappear until the stranger jerked away from him. After realizing what he'd done, Harry instinctively cowered away. He'd done things before – broken vases, ended up in a tree when Aunt Marge's dogs tried to eat him, turned his teacher's hair on fire when the man called him a cheater. But when he really thought about it, he found that he'd tried to heal his stranger's hand.

When the warmth left his fingertips, he'd suddenly felt wonderful – complete…but it was wrong.

He knew it was wrong and he wasn't sure why he'd done it. All he knew was that he himself hated bruises, and he didn't think his stranger liked them either. Maybe deep down inside he'd wanted to help his stranger, and thus the bad magic had seeped out.

Now Harry knew better.

Uncle Verwon often yelled at Harry about the 'M' word and about how it was something only freaks could do and that nothing like that should ever be done in the house. Harry now knew that it wasn't supposed to be done anywhere, not if the stranger had reacted as he had.

When he'd seen his stranger use his wooden stick to do strange things, he'd been frightened to say the least. However, a part of him was silently relieved that someone else was a freak. He knew it was bad to think such things, but he felt that maybe they could be friends – freaks together.

Apparently not.

Apparently, Harry was a freak alone, all by himself – as always. Maybe there was only one freak, just one Harry who wasn't allowed to do magic or make mistakes or have candies or have birthdays.

But his stranger had let him eat the funny lady's lollipop.

Today, when the stranger moved towards him after he had realized what Harry had done, the child had known that he would be punished. Maybe Uncle Verwon and his stranger both hated magic and now his stranger was going to punish him for it too.

He had tried to run under the bed, but the stranger knew what he was going to do before he did it. This frightened Harry most of all. How did the older boy know? Maybe he read minds? Maybe he knew all the bad things that Harry thought about – maybe he knew that Harry wished he could stay in this hotel room forever and never wake up from sleeping on the comfy bed, tucked in for the first time in his life under warm blankets. Maybe he knew that Harry would have fixed all the bruises his stranger got because Harry never wanted to go back to the Dursleys…

Then that woman had come in and she made the stranger pull away from him again. It had scared him stiff because he'd rather be with his stranger than anyone, but he'd hidden in the corner because his stranger knew he'd go to the bed. He didn't want her to come closer, but she was smiling and he was scared that maybe she had found out that he was freak and he'd done magic on his stranger. Maybe she was trying to pretend she was a friend and would punish him.

When he'd first met Piers, the boy had pretended to be friendly. In the end, he'd helped Dudley fool Harry into playing a game of hit tag. Only he was the only one who was allowed to get hit tagged.

When the woman finally reached out to touch him, he'd screamed his fear. But somehow, she never touched him. He'd shut his eyes as a wind rushed over his head and his stranger yelled, "Don't touch him!"

When he opened his eyes, he dashed forwards and hit the bed. He hastily rushed under it and soon, the blue light was gone. He had peered out from under the bed to see his stranger glowing slightly blue and knew that he'd been saved by this older boy who he knew nothing about. His stranger had done magic – very big magic!

He'd shut his eyes, trying to block out his fear and when he opened them again, the faint click of the door being shut sounded in his ears. He felt a tingling sensation on his leg and scratched away the spider that had crawled on him. Then he heard footsteps and all too soon, his stranger was peering at him.

And then the stranger said the strangest thing, "Merlin's balls, Potter, you great bloody twit." Then he fainted.

Harry kind of thought it was funny. He had enough sense to know that a 'twit' wasn't a nice word, but the stranger had said it in the funniest way – it was as if the older boy was a bit relieved, really, and it made Harry feel a smidge of warmth make it's way through him. He'd even smiled lop-sidedly but no one had seen it – his stranger was in a dead faint.

For a while, he just lay there under the bed staring at the unconscious boy before him. Back at the Dursleys, he used to have nightmares sometimes. He'd learned quickly enough not to call for Aunt P'tuna or Uncle Verwon – they got really angry with him. Sometimes, though, his dreams were too scary and he'd crawl out from the cupboard and slip silently upstairs. Unlike Dudley, he wasn't allowed in their room, even after nightmares and he wasn't allowed to sleep with them at night. Instead, he'd crawl under the bed and try to calm himself with the sound of their breathing above him.

Now, he felt oddly comforted by this crowded space as he stared at his stranger. Finally, when it looked like all the danger had passed, he crawled out and looked down at the body before him.

Maybe if he didn't do any more magic and let his stranger do it and never call him a freak, then maybe the older boy would let him stay with him forever. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys, and his stranger hadn't laid a harmful hand on him yet…

Harry decided to let him lie down there for now, but he crawled up onto the bed and pulled a pillow from it. He jumped back down and lifted the stranger's head slightly, just enough so that he could slide a pillow down underneath it. That done, he pulled the top most blanket from the bed and fixed it around the stranger, tucking him in slightly. When that was finally finished, he stood up with his arms akimbo on his waist. Proud of his work, he climbed back onto the bed and sat down against the headboard.

And then he felt it. Something hard and smooth brushed against his leg and when he looked down, a bright smile shined upon his face. It was his unicorn! With it's new perfect leg!

His stranger had fixed it for him, Harry remembered, and he sat there staring at it with a smile.

* * *

Draco felt the strange sensation of floating in midair and, fearing that he'd been caught and was in the midst of being hovered to Azkaban, he got up quickly. Or, rather, he tried to. All that he succeeded in doing was blinking his eyes open, only to shut them again when he found that it was too bright.

After a few moment, he finally got accustomed to the light pouring into the room and he looked around. His head was slightly atop a pillow and he was wrapped securely in a blanket. In wonder, he slowly sat up with a muffled moan. Great Circe, he felt as if he had been under Crucio.

Upon hearing a soft rustle of fabric, he looked up and saw Potter looking down at him curiously from on the bed. The boy smiled cautiously before retreating back to his place on the other side of the bed against the headboard. Draco stood up slowly and noticed that Potter was looking down at his unicorn figurine and trying not to look at him.

Stupid muggle things, he thought. The ceramic animal didn't even _move_. What kind of a toy was that?

He looked down at himself and saw that he was still wearing the clothes he had worn yesterday – and they were still muggle clothes. He hadn't planned on staying in the past for more than day, heck, even for more than a few hours. Now he was stuck wearing the same clothes two days in a row like some common _plebian_. For Merlin's sake, his only companion was a four-year-old who thought he was a muggle – and one who donned only ragged night clothes and ugly trainers.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. After sighing resignedly, he said, "I need to buy a few things."

Making sure his wand was still in his pocket, he turned and headed to the door only to hear a faint gasp. He looked around and saw Potter scrambling to get off the bed and run towards him.

"What is it, Potter," he asked, his voice lacking its usual acerbic tone. The boy didn't stop a few feet away, but practically flew until he made impact with Draco's legs. His arms wrapped around the older boy's leg and he held on for dear life. "Merlin's balls!" exclaimed Draco in surprise. And when the boy looked up at him with eyes glimmering with unshed tears, he supposed that his wording had been a bit vulgar.

"No! N-No, please!" cried Harry piteously, stammering over his words in his desperation. "_Please_! I p-promise I won't do it again! I _promise_!"

At this sudden outburst, Draco was sorely tempted reprimand the boy. Instead, upon hearing undertone of utter fear, he tried to pull away so he could look at the child. However, the little boy had ideas of his own and refused to relinquish the hold he had on the older boy's leg.

With a defeated sigh, Draco asked, "What are you blathering on about now?"

Potter sniffed. "I – I won't do…I won't do…" but he trailed off once more and glanced surreptitiously up at Draco.

"Well? What is it?"

The boy gulped and buried his face in Draco's trouser leg. "The 'M' word. I won't do it again," he murmured pitifully.

At this, Draco felt the heat of the same fire that had created his magical outburst earlier. He tried to dowse as to avoid another bit of accidental magic, but felt it flare even more inside him when the child began crying again. "The…the 'M' word?" he said, his voice dangerously soft. "What is this…'M' word?"

As if hearing the sudden change in the elder's tone, Harry pulled slightly away and looked up at him cautiously. "I – I," but Draco looked at him expectantly so he said, "_magic_."

Draco barely quelled his anger again, but felt a faint heat surrounding him. "For pity's sake – just bloody say the damned word. You're a wizard for Merlin's sake, you fool!" And though is words were sharp, they lacked their cutting edge. When Harry jumped backwards at the word 'wizard', Draco shot him a feral grin and said, "Magic, magic, magic. And you're a _wizard_."

"No!" It seemed that that was all that little Potter could say for his voice seemed to have disappeared. The boy stared up at Draco with such horror filled eyes that Draco didn't know whether to laugh or console him.

And then Potter turned and dashed back to the corner and curled up there, staring at Draco through parted fingers, his eyes wide and dripping tears.

Draco sighed and walked over, kneeling in front of the child when he didn't run away. "Look, it's nothing to be frightened of. Didn't you see _me_ doing magic? You can't deny -," but he stopped himself. _You can't deny what you are, who you are…_ Sure, that was sound advice from someone who lived his life in denial. "Well," he said instead, "it's certainly all right if _I _do it, so there most definitely is nothing wrong with it."

Potter slowly pulled his hands down, looking very much like he wished to believe Draco. "But I'm…I'm a…" he paused and lowered his eyes. "I'm a _freak_," Potter murmured despondently.

Draco frowned at this. What the bloody hell did muggles treat children? The words, "Of _course _not!" suddenly exploded from his lips and he shut his mouth quickly. Now where had that revolting comment come from? He saw Potter look at him hopefully and said quickly, "Well, sure you've got that rather hideous scar…" he pointed vaguely at Potter's face, "but…well, it's not _that_ bad."

His tone was so completely dramatic and his gestures so comical that the boy giggled softly, then hid his face in his knees, his shoulders still shaking with irrepressible laughs.

The blonde haired boy felt again that same feeling of his lips curving upwards and fought to conquer it. He shook his head dejectedly.

He _hated_ losing.

* * *

When Harry finally felt as if he had himself under control, he wiped a sleeve across his eyes and cheeks to clear away all traces of his tears. Before him, the stranger was squatting down and smiling slightly. Harry smiled back at him tentatively.

"So – so you aren't angry?" he wondered.

The stranger's brows rose in mild surprise, but all he said was, "No."

Harry swallowed and looked away for a moment, gathering his courage to ask one last question. When he glanced back at his stranger, the older boy waited patiently for him to say something. "So…you won't leave me?"

This time, the stranger's entire face changed with surprise and Harry stood up when the other did. "Leave you? I was just going to buy a few articles of clothing for you – you didn't expect me to be seen in broad daylight with a child in only night clothes, did you?"

Harry couldn't help but crack a grin at the stranger's offended tone and said, "But I thought you were going to leave me an' never come back a-cause I did – I did the 'M' word!"

"Magic?" said the older boy, his tone didactic.

"Magic," echoed Harry obediently, looking up at his stranger with wide hopeful eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just couldn't stand seeing you in those horrid rags." The stranger paused and Harry held his breath, his hands folded in front of him as if he was trying to look like a really good boy. "I suppose you'll want to come with me then…?"

Harry's face brightened with a joyful smile and he jumped up slightly. "Oh, yes!"

The stranger rolled his eyes. "Well…go into the loo and fix your hair at least, would you? Can't do anything about your face though I suppose, Scar-face," he said caustically, but Harry was too elated with being allowed to go with his stranger that he ran straight to the restroom to do as he was told. "And hurry, would you?" the older boy called after him.

* * *

Draco felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he watched Potter run off to the bathroom. What had inspired him to let the brat go with him? Stupidity. Really, that was all he could think of at the moment. Never in his life had he felt as he did now, but when Potter came dashing out of the bathroom, his hair gleaming with wetness, Draco felt that urge to smile again.

This time he was able to crush it – it made him feel loads better.

As he looked down at the little boy before him, he couldn't help but wonder how he could have ever ended up here like this. What ever happened to that feeling of hatred and anger that burned within him at the mere sight of the boy that this child grew up to be?

Facing him, Potter was jittering and shifting from foot to foot with barely restrained excitement. It seemed as if the smile plastered across his face was stuck there permanently, no matter how many times the boy tried to subdue it.

Was this the same boy that he turned down his offer of friendship all those years ago? How could so innocent a little creature cause so much hurt in another? It seemed as if he could barely hurt a fly with the way his eyes glowed so openly.

"Sir?" wondered Potter, tugging slightly on the older boy's sleeve.

The blonde headed boy glanced down at him. "My name's Malfoy, Potter." He paused. "But you can call me Draco."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you all so much for your reviews! :o) It made me want to write some more and once i started, i couldn't stop again. So, thanks again!

Sea Chelle


End file.
